The fresh scent of blood hung thick in the air, a coppery fog that clung to everything. My arms burned with each armored body I dragged across the ground, steel plates scraping against dirt and stone in a rhythm that had become sickeningly familiar. The sun was beginning its descent, painting everything in shades of crimson that matched the carnage surrounding us.
Five thousand knights. Five thousand corpses. And with each body I dragged toward the well, I felt the weight of that number pressing down on me—not from guilt, but from the sheer tedium of the task.
My wounds had mostly closed by now. Blood no longer seeped from the gashes across my torso, the arrow puncture in my shoulder sealed into fresh pink skin. My healing ability was working its magic, knitting flesh and muscle back together as if they had never been torn apart—a useful trait for someone like me, who seemed destined to accumulate injuries like others collected trinkets.
"Rudra," Jaipa's voice cut through my thoughts, sounding as exhausted as I felt.
I glanced over at him. His once pristine white skin was now a canvas of dirt and blood spatters, his four green eyes blinking in a tired sequence. The wings on his back drooped slightly, no longer held proudly extended.
"How many more do we need?" he asked, dropping another knight's body with a heavy thud beside me.
I surveyed the well for a moment. "About half of them should be enough." My voice came out flat, emotionless. Despite hours of dragging bodies, I wasn't winded—merely bored. "Maybe less if their blood volume is substantial."
"This process is taking too long," Jaipa sighed, rolling his shoulders. "At this rate, we'll still be here when the sun rises again."
A dangerous proposition. I could feel it already—a subtle tugging sensation somewhere behind my eyes, as if invisible hooks were trying to pull something essential from my skull. The Book of Etresh.
"We can't afford that," I said simply, letting my gaze drift across the field of bodies. "The longer we stay, the stronger the book's pull on us."
I didn't need to elaborate. The weight of our predicament hung between us, unspoken but understood.
Jaipa straightened, wincing as he did so. "There must be a faster way."
I stared at the well, its darkness seeming to glow with malevolent intent. Something about it had been bothering me—something fundamental that I'd overlooked in my haste to execute my plan.
"Wait," I said, fingers tightening around my blade's hilt. "Let me try something."
I approached the nearest knight, the captain judging by his ornate armor. His face remained frozen in an expression of terror, mouth agape in a silent scream, eyes wide.
I positioned my blade at his throat, ready to slice it open and let gravity draw his blood into the well. But as I began to cut, something strange happened—a numbness shot through my right arm, sudden and cold, like ice water flooding my veins. Then my fingers spasmed involuntarily, losing their grip.
The knight's body slipped from my grasp and tumbled headfirst into the well.
"Rudra!" Jaipa moved forward, assuming I'd made a careless error.
I raised my hand, stopping him. "Wait."
We both peered over the edge of the well, tracking the knight's fall. A series of thuds echoed up, then came a moment of silence, followed by a sound unlike any I'd heard before—like thousands of tiny teeth gnawing at once.
Through the gloom, I could make out the knight's body... dissolving. Armor, flesh, bone—all of it melting away into thick, red liquid that pooled at the bottom of the well. The transformation wasn't gradual it was violent, like watching a candle consumed by flame in an instant.
A cold smile spread across my face as understanding dawned. "We don't need to drain them first. The well itself converts the entire body to blood."
The implications hit Jaipa immediately. His shoulders sagged with relief and guilt, but even then his relief was much stronger than his guilt. "This will save us hours of work."
"More importantly," I added, already moving toward another corpse, "it means we might actually complete this trial before it consumes us."
With renewed purpose, we began dragging bodies directly to the well and pushing them in whole. Each time, the same transformation occurred—solid matter became liquid in seconds, the blood level rising with each addition. What had seemed an impossible task now felt manageable.
After disposing of perhaps a few hundred bodies this way, Jaipa collapsed against a nearby rock, wings spread limply behind him. His breathing came in ragged gasps, chest heaving with the effort.
"I need... just a moment," he said between breaths.
I looked at him and thought: despite his inhuman appearance and considerable strength, Jaipa was reaching his limit. Like a fragile girl, I muttered to myself, "I can push myself further." But thinking of rest, I said aloud:
"Rest." My voice softened. "Wake me when you're ready to continue."
Without waiting for his response, I settled on the ground nearby, letting my back rest against the stone wall of the well. Sleep claimed me instantly, darkness rushing up to engulf my consciousness like a tide. Even surrounded by death and with unknown dangers lurking ahead, my body surrendered to exhaustion without resistance.
After what seemed like moments, Jaipa's touch on my shoulder pulled me from the void of dreamless sleep. His hand was gentle, but there was urgency in his touch.
"Rudra, it's time. We should finish this."
My eyes snapped open, instantly alert. My hand instinctively moved to my blade.
"Hey, hey, hey... take it easy, kid."
I looked at my surroundings, then with a little relief, I softened the grip on my blade.
"Ha. Again THE FIRST HEAVEN," I muttered to myself.
Jaipa was right beside me and asked, "What did you say?"
Glancing at him, I said, "Nothing."
"How long was I asleep?" I asked, rising to my feet in a single fluid motion.
"Not long, perhaps an hour," Jaipa replied. "I tried to let you rest as much as possible."
"Ooo, how much you care about me," I tried to mimic some humans I had seen on the streets where I was living.
"Didn't do that. It sent goosebumps down my spine."
"Disloyal bastard," I muttered at him and continued.
I surveyed our progress. The well was now more than half full, the blood glimmering darkly in the setting sun, its surface unnaturally still. We still had thousands of bodies to process, but our discovery had transformed an impossible task into merely a tedious one.
"Let's continue," I said, already moving toward the nearest cluster of fallen knights.
We worked in silence, each lost in our own thoughts as we dragged body after body to the well. The repetitive nature of the task allowed my mind to wander, contemplating what might await us beyond this trial. The Book of Etresh remained largely a mystery—and a dangerous one.
As we neared completion, with the well almost filled to the brim, I became aware of a subtle change in our surroundings. The air itself seemed to thicken, pressing down on us from all directions. At first, I thought it might be simple fatigue playing tricks on my senses, but when I saw Jaipa's movements becoming labored, I knew something was genuinely wrong.
"Rudra," he whispered, voice strained as if speaking required enormous effort, "something's changing."
My hand moved to my blade instinctively, fingers wrapping around the hilt as my eyes searched our surroundings. The pressure continued to build, making each breath feel like drawing syrup into my lungs. The setting sun seemed to bend and distort around us, shadows stretching in impossible directions.
Then, without warning, the air before us became foggy and split. Through it stepped seven figures, emerging into existence.
Seven men stood before us, arranged in a loose semicircle. The sight of them sent liquid ice through my veins not fear, but a primal recognition of danger far beyond my ability to combat....